


Just Say The Words

by TreacleA



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Besotted Hannibal, Did I Mention This Was Fluffy As Fuck?, First Kiss, Fluff, Hannibal POV, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, One Shot, Post-Fall Fic, Sassy Will Graham, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleA/pseuds/TreacleA
Summary: Brevity is not Hannibal Lecter's strong suit.





	Just Say The Words

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for a story where Hannibal hates swearing and (in particular) the word 'fuck', and Will basically tortures him into saying it. This story started up there and ended up as something else entirely, I probably just badly needed some sweet fluffy Hannigram rather than porn that day :D 
> 
> (PS That other story? [It still got written](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574957))

**** All words have a particular taste on the tongue, don’t they? Certain words, strung together, flow over the tastebuds like a fine Chateau d’Yquem, their bouquet distinct and rounded on the palate, ultimately satisfying. Others are thicker, meatier, and require chewing, but their taste is richer and more complex as a result, dropping into the self like a well done steak. Hitting the spot. 

Hannibal chooses his words in much the same way that he chooses his ingredients, with relish, mindfulness and with great and careful deliberation. It’s one of the reasons he so rarely curses. That, and an entirely contradictory internal moral code that he has long ago deemed perfectly reasonable.

     “That’s bullshit,” Will says, and Hannibal wants to slap the smirk right off his beautifully shaped mouth. 

Instead he settles for the chilliest of chilly glares which, stretched out full length, gloriously half-naked in the hot sun, the other man seems completely immune to. Will slides his sunglasses down the length of his nose and regards him over the top of them.

     “You’re pissed at me,” his eyebrows rise in a challenge, “So try saying you’re pissed at me.”

     “Whether I feel anger at your observations or not is beside the point Will, we were discussing the subject of mutual respect…”

     “Uh huh.”  
  
And Will’s glasses go back up his nose. His head goes back to its prior resting position in the hammock.

     “There you go again. Using forty words when four would do it.”

 He raises a hand, counts them off. 

     “I’m. Pissed. At. You. Four words. Five if you want to be pedantic about contractions.”

Reaching down, he fumbles for the glass of lemonade Hannibal has brought him, and bring it up to his lips, drawing on the straw deeply. Hannibal brushes a hand over the front of his linen shirt, smoothing out the creases, and then stands with all dignity he can muster.

     “I’m going inside. You should reapply your sunblock before you burn.”

Touching his forehead with a finger in acknowledgement, Will smiles, his long dark eyelashes resting on the curve of his cheek. Counts off another four words. 

     “Thanks. For. The. Lemonade.”

Later at dinner, the smile has gone but the look in his eyes hasn’t changed one iota. Tilting his face up to Hannibal’s, he moves his napkin gracefully aside as the other man places a beautifully composed dish in front of him, and then looks down at the food.

     “This is beautiful. Thankyou.”

The brevity of his expression does not reduce the depth of warmth and sincerity in his words, and momentarily surprised Hannibal forgets to answer for a few seconds.

     “You’re very welcome.”

Taking his own seat beside Will, he waits for a moment as his wine glass is filled and then reverently picks up his silverware.

     “Have you given any thought to where you would like to take the boat this weekend? I thought perhaps down the coast to Cayo Francés or Santa Maria.”

Will’s eyes move to meet his. Chewing and swallowing leisurely, he spears the tines of his fork into the meat on his plate.

     “I’d rather…stay here.” 

Hannibal’s eyebrows lift in surprise, “You would? I thought you’d said you were bored. You wanted to see some other faces than mine for a change?”  


The words had stung at the time, he had to admit, but after he’d nursed the tiny barb for a day or two he’d realised that their self-enforced isolation from the world had probably come at a higher price for Will than it had for him. Will was used to being around people, to interactions and distractions. He missed his dogs, maybe even his family. The idea that he might be feel bored or under stimulated now that his social circle had been reduced to one man, was hardly a leap of logic. Quite why the comment had smarted so much though, Hannibal had found himself strangely unwilling to question.

Looking at him as if he could read every one of those thoughts, Will’s eyes soften.

     “I changed my mind,” his eyelids lower. That sweetly teasing expression that was still so new,  “Can't I do that?”

After dinner is finished, the evening stretches out before them, as evenings often seem to do in Cuba. At this time of year, the sun sometimes didn’t set till almost 9pm, meaning that a walk along the beach together became a viable proposition rather than a unnecessary risk. The people of the nearby village were mostly fishermen or worked locally, most had never been off the small island let alone watched ‘America’s Most Wanted’, but still Hannibal found himself oddly loathe to take chances. It was unlike him to be overly circumspect, but he explained the change in his outlook away easily with the fact that he’d cheated death enough times now to demand a re-examining of his lifestyle. He was content with the home that he had begun to build in Cuba with Will - _more than content_ if he tentatively allowed it - and to put all of it in jeopardy for the sake of an illusion of freedom seemed both needless and senseless. 

Walking beside him in the twilight, Will’s profile is free of the shadows he’s worn for as long as Hannibal has known him, and stealing a glance at him, he feels an increasingly familiar ache in his chest at the sight. He feels Will’s contentment spread out from him like the tendrils of a plant with each passing day, leaves turning upward to meet the sunlight, growing and flourishing under his gaze. How much he has to do with it he has never been entirely sure, sometimes it seems nothing, other days as if Hannibal were the sun and rain itself. Mostly though it feels like they simply co-exist, two perfectly complimentary organisms, happily sharing a beautiful space.

Will smiles, and Hannibal finds that he aches to know his thoughts.

     “What are you thinking about?”

The other man stops walking, his body turned towards the sea and the sunset.

     “You and me. Here,” he says simply.

And Hannibal finds himself stunned into silence for the second time that evening. Will’s face is turned to him, perfectly calm, perfectly happy, and he struggles to think of anything he’s ever seen that has filled him with a more complete sense of awe.

     “Is that…all?” 

     “That’s enough, isn’t it?” 

Hannibal clears his throat, unexpectedly awkward.

     "I'm not entirely sure what I was imagining, but perhaps a more expansive description of your..."

Will’s fingers brush his own, then impossibly he is holding his hand. Holding both his hands. Hannibal’s breath stalls, his lungs frozen. Inside his chest though, he can feel his heart thrashing wildly, like something trying to fight its way out.

     “Too many words, Hannibal.” 

And the softest touch of Will’s lips to his jawline sends his heart rattling against his ribcage. Impossibly fast, impossibly strong. Opening his mouth, Hannibal pulls in a small, much needed breath.

     “How many words am I allowed?”

Will hums against his skin, he can feel his smile, the curve of his lower lip, the suggestion of teeth and tongue. Moving to his chin, he presses a close-mouthed kiss into the small soft hollow below his mouth. 

     “Three, four at most,” his body moves closer, fingers lacing through his, “You can do it. It’s not even hard.” 

He knows Will hasn’t meant to make a joke, but now that the entire length of their bodies is pressed against each other, the double meaning of his statement seems impossible to ignore. Closing his eyes, Will breathes out a quick laugh against Hannibal’s mouth.

     “I didn’t…mean it like that.” 

Hannibal moves forward, rubbing the rough, unshaven length of his jaw against Will’s own and is rewarded by a soft low-pitched hum of pleasure.  

     “I know what you meant. And Will? That was six words.”

The soft answering laugh vibrates against his clavicle. Pulling back to look at his face, Will’s eyes shine with the same kind of devilish darkness he’d long to slap away earlier.

     “I wasn’t sure you’d noticed,” he grins, teeth glinting in the golden dying light, “Still think that forty words are better than four?”

Hannibal inclines his head, small shake, small smile. Bringing his right hand up, he runs his thumb and forefinger along Will’s jaw until they rest just below his ear.

     “May I kiss you now?”

Will’s lips fall open, delight written at the corners of them. 

     “That’s five words Hannibal. But yes. Yes, you may.”

 

# THE END

**Author's Note:**

> _Like this fic? Please consider commenting on it and making my day! And if you _ **really**_ wanna show some love, come follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Treacle_A) or on my [Tumblr](http://treacle-a.tumblr.com/), where I also makes Hannigram Manips for my [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/hannigrammanips) of the same name!_


End file.
